Chapter 2
Tuesday Afternoon
“Looks like The Cadre is back in Knoxville.” Brotherhood Protectors’ founder Hank Patterson announced from Montana. “That is if they ever actually left. Sounds as if they’re still mad as hell for our interference and looking to kick our ass.”
“We think this attack is The Cadre?” Lieutenant Griffin A. Tyler, USMC, retired, asked grimly. “Why can’t scum like that stay in Chicago and leave my hometown alone?” He stared at his employer’s image on the computer screen, stretched out his legs and winced. The PT session he’d requested earlier had challenged him, but he’d needed it. The old injury to his right leg and shoulder flared when the weather turned rainy and cold, but he refused to interrupt his fitness routine even if it hurt like hell. Brotherhood Protectors had called him into action for this mission and he was determined to be ready.
“Very possibly,” Hank agreed. “Killing Sister Nolan in broad daylight has all the marks of The Cadre. But the local police think it’s more likely the work of Obadiah Collins, an East Tennessee pimp and crime boss also known as Big Daddy.”
“I’d hoped The Cadre had left,” Griff said. Last month, he’d helped fellow BP member and friend, Keith “Mac” McFarlane and reporter Anne Hamilton find and rescue her niece, five of her friends, as well as BP member, Parker Evans’s long-lost sister. Griff’s expertise with computers and all things IT had helped track down a ring of local pedophiles. “Was Ms. Prescott injured at all?”
“No,” Hank said. “In her police report she stated the man who attacked Sister Nolan said, ‘She’s wearing your jacket.’ Apparently, Ms. Prescott loaned Sister Nolan her Rainbow Pride jacket that lots of people from the street knew she often wears.”
Griff studied the police report on another screen. Around him on the kidney shaped desk, was a state-of-the art computer system he’d chosen at Hank’s request. “Obadiah Collins or Big Daddy, if you will, sounds like a nasty customer.”
“That’s putting it mildly.” Hank looked at his own papers. “Over the past twenty-five years, he has slowly built a business empire involving nightclubs, restaurants and even dry cleaners that act as covers for his illegal operations. Drugs, guns, illegal documents, but mostly prostitution and the police now suspect, human trafficking.”
Griff pointed at the reports on the screens. “Have The Cadre and Collins joined forces?”
Hank’s scowl would have scared Big Daddy if he’d been around to see it. “The local police think so,” he said. “And you’ll recall how damn good they are. But like The Cadre, Big Daddy has everything buried so deep, they’ve not been able to uncover it. He’s one scary, sick bastard and like The Cadre won’t hesitate to use intimidation or violence to get what he wants.”
“Low and dirty,” Griff agreed. “Will Sergeant Grant Miller be involved again?”
A flickering smile replaced Hank’s grim expression. “He was the first one on the scene when Sister Bernie was killed. Turns out, Ms. Prescott knows Anne Hamilton. She called her and they, along with Mac, called me and we had a Zoom meeting this morning. Miller is ready to join us whenever we say the word.”
“I like that guy,” Griff declared. “Maybe you should put him on the BP payroll.”
“I invited him to join us,” Hank said. “But his goal is to make lieutenant in the next couple of years, and KPD would be mighty put out if we tried to tempt him away. We need someone like Miller to be our point person as long as we’re a presence in East Tennessee through Tennessee Task Force.”
“Does Ms. Prescott know about the Task Force?” Griff asked. “Since she’s a social worker, it would seem that she would.”
“As a matter of fact, Ms. Prescott was recently invited to join them, which is another reason why we’re taking this case,” Hank said. The new state agency had asked BP earlier this year to be part of their work in finding missing and exploited children and teens.
“Maybe since Ms. Prescott’s would be attacker was wearing ski goggles and she might not be able to identify him, Big Daddy will leave her alone for a while,” Griff mused.
Hank shook his head. “According to Miller, Big Daddy is going to be even more pissed his hired killer got the wrong target. Someone’s bad ass is going to get more than chewed out.”
“Do we know how that note got on Ms. Prescott’s desk so quickly?” Griff asked.
“Her agency, Families United, is a counseling center and social service provider in downtown Knoxville,” Hank shared. “Even with the staff buzzing people in, it could be anyone. Ms. Prescott has worked there for years and lots of people in the community know her.”
And where her office would be. “What exactly is Big Daddy’s beef with Ms. Prescott?” Griff asked.
“She helped his girlfriend Lulu Roscoe get away from him last week,” Hank said. “One of his community snitches guessed she had a hand in it and told him.”
“Very dangerous, helping a pimp’s girlfriend escape,” Griff said thoughtfully. “Anything else I need to know?”
“Before she died, Sister Nolan told Ms. Prescott that Big Daddy and an ‘out-of-town group’ are working to bring a group of very young, possibly underage women to Knoxville to offer services at the All-Tech and Vintage Car shows.” Hank’s mouth tightened. “Services like exotic dancing and sex. And there could be others as well.”
“Damn.” Griff gently pounded the desk. “Now that pisses me off.” The family friendly events, held Thanksgiving weekend, brought thousands of car fans and techno-geeks pouring into Knoxville from all over the Southeast, ready to spend some serious money. He swallowed his anger before asking, “Are we sure this group working with Big Daddy is The Cadre? I’d love to bring those bastards down once and for all.”
“Not yet,” Hank admitted. “But everything we know so far points to it. So, in addition to keeping Ms. Prescott safe from Big Daddy and his minions, you’re going to use all the skills in your arsenal to find and help get the women they’re bringing to safety and who’s behind it.”
Excitement quickened Griff’s pulse. “You mean hacking into their computer systems? Maybe going undercover?”
“Whatever it takes. Consider it an early Christmas present.” Hank’s wicked grin suggested how much he wanted this mission to succeed. “Be advised that Ms. Prescott is a level three social worker and no novice at working with street folks. She’s developed scores of contacts over the years and is well known to both good and bad guys.”
“Making her a prime target, even without that Rainbow Pride jacket,” Griff said. “When do I meet Ms. Elaine Prescott?”
“Tomorrow at noon,” Hank told him. “There’s a memorial service for Sister Nolan then at St. Nicholas’ Catholic Church in downtown Knoxville. She’s agreed to meet you there at the wake in the parish hall.”
“I’ll be there,” Griff said. “Anything else you need for me to know?”
“First, I’m sending Patrick Danton to act as your driver,” Hank said. “Just like you acted as driver for Mac and Anne.”
“I’m good with that,” Griff agreed. He’d met Danton at Better Days Ranch and liked the man’s quiet confidence. “What else?”
“We think we have a lead on the whereabouts of the Obando children.”
“Really.” Griff fought to ignore the sudden roaring in his ears. His last mission with the Marines eighteen months ago in a Central American country known for its constantly changing government had ended with a betrayal, a local co-worker murdered, Griff left for dead, and three children kidnapped. The boys, Tomas and Nicolo, eight and nine, if not dead, were probably serving as child soldiers while five-year-old Esperanza–or Izzy, as Griff had nick-named her–was probably being used as a domestic until she got old enough to become a sex slave. Choking back his rage, he asked, “How’d you find out?”
“One of our teams is on the ground on another mission,” Hank said. “Among other things, they’re searching for units of child soldiers to possibly rescue them and others like them.”
“Any word on Marda Kitts?” Griff gripped a nearby paperweight with both hands. A member of a United Kingdom Special Forces Team who had a vast knowledge of the area, Marda had proved helpful more than once. They’d worked together for months and become lovers. Then, just as they were getting the Obando children out of the area, she’d set the trap and Griff had walked right into it. Now Alejandro, their local driver was dead, Griff’s shoulder and knee would always give him trouble and the Obando kids were gone. Griff would never forgive Marda for betraying them.
And maybe himself for loving and trusting her.
“We think she’s still in the area,” Hank said. “And the Brotherhood is looking for her, so that’s all you need to know. I need you focused on the mission at hand.”
“Copy that,” Griff said. He’d spent a long time while doing rehab at Better Days Ranch, imagining what he would say to Marda Kitts if they ever met again. “Can you forward what you have on Elaine Prescott?”
“Coming to you now,” Hank said. “Signing off.”
Coffee. I need coffee. Griff poured out a cup from the carafe on the desk and opened the file on Elaine Prescott.
Two women, one with very short, silver-blonde hair, and the other wearing a nun’s habit, stood arm in arm, grinning up at him from the onscreen photo like “besties”. Their shared joy lit up their faces and sympathy tugged at Griff’s heart. To lose a friend was bad enough. To have them die in your arms was an experience he wouldn’t wish on anyone. He’d held too many of them.
And Elaine Prescott was stunning. A head shot showed along with her silver-blonde hair, her dark brown eyes were thoughtful and penetrating while her wide and friendly smile held a kindness Griff hadn’t seen in a long time.
But that smile also held determination and bravery, suggesting that she was a woman to be reckoned with, one who would not be easily frightened. Griff sincerely hoped that her impressive resume included a good dose of common sense. Like to know when it was time to be frightened.
Because if they were going to go up against The Cadre and Big Daddy, she was going to need to remember that.